El Tango De Joey – A Joey Richter Fan Fiction
by fangirlineedofhelp
Summary: Just a story about a Fangirl, a ball, Moulin Rogue's famous song about a prostitute, and Joey Richter... What else is there to say? This has nothing to do with Starship, they just didn't have a 'Starkid' category. One-shot. this is just one of my many daydreams, so enjoy.


I sat swirling my glass of wine watching the room of happy couples dance. The music they were dancing to slowed and quietened until finally it stopped. I let my gaze drop to the table as a few couples went to sit down instead of waiting for the next song to start. Musical chatter filled the air causing the room to grow louder than it was a few moments before. My friend who'd dragged me to this Ball had disappeared into the crowd with a random stranger about three songs ago, leaving me on my own. A circle of applause rung around the room as an Italian man leapt onto the stage shortly followed by a younger man. The older man points his finger at the band and they start playing right away. My head perks up as I recognise the song. The almost slow tune dominated by the violins. I start humming the haunting melody as I notice a man walk up to me, but he wasn't just _any_ man. No, he was _the_ man. The man who has met me every night in my dreams since the first time I'd seen him perform. He was in a suit, whose hue matched his black hair perfectly. His soft, brown eyes smiled at me and a cheeky grin played on his crooked jaw. Anyone could see that this man was handsome but to me he looked like an angel. Ever the gentleman, he looked me straight in the eyes and bowed.  
"Would the fair lady care to dance?" He asks me while holding out his palm, patiently waiting for mine to enter it. I examine it carefully but the truth is I would very much care to dance with this man. I show him my most winning smile.  
"I believe that would be acceptable." If we were being fancy why not go all out. He chuckles deeply at my reply and I allow him to grab my hand. We join the small line of couples that are making their way to the dance floor. When we find an empty area on the floor he grabs my other hand and we get into our positions, ready for the tango to begin. The cue for us to begin dancing came when the Italian man started singing. The music was rough and beautiful. The orchestra played it just how it was supposed to. The man led me in the dance and pulled me into dips and spun me into twirls. I knew he was a good dancer but I never imagined that he would be good at this style of dance as well. When the younger man on stage started singing so did the man I was dancing with.  
_'His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand.' _It was amazing hearing him sing in person. _His lips caress your skin. It's more than I can stand.' _The way he looked in my eyes while doing so. It was we were the only people in the world. _'Why does my heart cry? Feelings I can't fight.'_ We twirled all around the floor yet I never once got dizzy. It felt like I was dancing on air. _'You're free to leave my, just don't deceive me and please believe me when I say, I love you.'_ I found it absolutely amazing how this man could sing perfectly and dance like this at the same time. The singers words switched languages and became unintelligible and the music quietened. He spoke, "You are an amazing dancer. It's almost like this song was made for you." He complements me.  
"If I didn't know any better, I would believe that you were calling me a prostitute, young sir." He just gapes at me and stutters. "No, that's not what I meant– "But I cut him off.  
"It's a good thing I do know better then." I smile and he smiles back. The smile that could make angels melt, my heart flutters. The older man is singing again with his booming voice and the music is almost deafening. We burst into more enthusiastic and graceful dance steps but we never trip over. It's like we know exactly where the other person's foot will be just seconds before it's even there. The last part of the song arrives and the dance floor has a dramatic tension swirling over it. Finally he pulls me into one last, gigantic spin for the finishing note of the song ends. We stand in each other's arms, breathing heavily. We walk away from the floor and sit down at an abandoned table. We talk for a while until I realize just how late it is. I stand up and walk a few steps from the table when I turn back. He has a sad expression on his face at my departure.  
"Thank you very much for the dance. Goodnight mister Joseph Michael Richter" I giggle as I see the surprised look on his face.  
"How did you know–"He asks in one breath but I've already reached the door. Little did he know that in a few hours while taking off his suit would he find a slip of paper containing my number and the words 'I also wanna be a Starship Ranger.'

THE END


End file.
